


I'll Always Support You.

by ladybirdbee



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Matthew Crawley Lives, Non-Explicit, Not Beta Read, Past Rape/Non-con, mary crawley is nicer than in the show, matthew living is my reasoning for mary being nicer, not because i'm super attached to him or anything, so he has to live, that would be silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:00:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29151642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybirdbee/pseuds/ladybirdbee
Summary: The morning after the house party, she noticed something was off about Anna. The most obvious differences were the cuts and bruises that she had supposedly gained from falling down the stairs, but it was more than that. Gone were her usual cheery conversations, her smiles, and laughter at funny things said. Instead, Anna hardly talked at all, only a mumbled yes or no when a question was asked. Mary pretended not to notice at first, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence by talking about various occurrences from the night before, but Anna hardly looked as if she was hearing anything that was being said.Mary talks to Anna the day after the fateful Christmas party.CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion of past rape. Not explicit, but deals with some of the emotional aftermath.
Relationships: Anna Bates & Mary Crawley, Mary Crawley/Matthew Crawley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	1. Opening

**Author's Note:**

> CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion of past rape. Not explicit, but deals with some of the emotional aftermath.
> 
> PSA: I am not a sexual abuse/assault survivor. My discussion/representation of the effects of sexual abuse/assault is based off of the events and discussions had in the show, so please don't hesitate to suggest edits or corrections.
> 
> This is my first fic (ever!), and I'm not a writer, so grammar and other writing suggestions are also welcome.

She swept the brush through Lady Mary’s hair. She didn’t want to think, didn’t want to remember. Lady Mary kept on about Lord Gillingham or something like that, and all she could do was nod. Yes milady, no milady. She didn’t want to talk, couldn’t. It filled her head, and she had a feeling that it would continue to do so forever, never leaving her in peace. Her hands started shaking. She could see her future, and every day was the same as this. Miserable. Pained. Lonely. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she blinked, trying to force them back. She couldn’t. Not now. 

“Anna. Anna,” Mary was looking at her through the mirror. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, milady,” she said, her voice shaky, despite her best efforts. She turned away under the pretense of putting away the brush down, but really, she just wanted to wipe her eyes without Mary seeing.

\----------------------

The morning after the house party, she noticed something was off about Anna. The most obvious differences were the cuts and bruises that she had supposedly gained from falling down the stairs, but it was more than that. Gone were her usual cheery conversations, her smiles, and laughter at funny things said. Instead, Anna hardly talked at all, only a mumbled yes or no when a question was asked. Mary pretended not to notice at first, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence by talking about various occurrences from the night before, but Anna hardly looked as if she was hearing anything that was being said. 

They moved through the first part of the morning routine smoothly enough, and Mary sat down at the dressing table. Anna began brushing her hair, but short moments later, Mary felt the brush stop moving. She looked up, and Anna’s eyes were glassy, filled with tears. 

“Anna,” she said, alarmed. Anna didn’t move, just staring at the brush. “Anna. Anna,” she said again. Anna finally looked at her, although Mary noticed that she didn’t make eye contact.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine milady,” Anna turned to put the brush away. Mary could see her reach to brush away tears. Quite obviously, she was not fine. Anna picked up the box of hairpins and turned back to Mary, keeping her eyes down and avoiding Mary’s gaze. 

“If you weren’t alright, you could tell me. Truly. Anything.” She tried to make her words sound as comforting as possible. She’d never seen Anna in such a state before. 

“I… I can’t,” Anna choked, tears flowing freely now. Mary got up, turning to place what she hoped was a comforting hand on Anna’s shoulder. 

“Come sit,” she said, leading Anna over to the bed. “I’ll get a handkerchief.”

“Really, you don’t need to,” Anna managed between tears.

“Nonsense,” Mary chided gently. “I’m happy to do it.” She grabbed a couple of handkerchiefs from the drawer in her dressing table, and spotting the breakfast tray still on her nightstand, poured a cup of tea from the pot. 

“Here,” she said, carefully handing Anna the teacup and handkerchief. “I’m afraid the tea’s a bit cold.” She sat on the bed, facing Anna. 

“I meant it when I said you could tell me anything. Heaven knows you’ve helped me over the years. You’ve been so loyal to me. It would be the least I could do to help you now.”

“I can’t. I … It’s nothing you should hear, milady…” Anna stuttered through sobs.

“I’ve been married, and gone through childbirth,” Mary said, smiling in what she hoped was an encouraging manner. “There isn’t much left on earth that shocks me.”

Anna was silent, still reluctant.

“Tell me. I shan’t tell a soul if you don’t wish me to,” Mary was persistent.

Anna finally gave in. “Last night, I went downstairs. For some headache powder... ”


	2. Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion of past rape. Not explicit, but deals with some of the emotional aftermath.

By the time Anna had finished her story, Mary was horrified. Anna was crying harder than ever, and Mary got up to get her some fresh handkerchiefs, her head still spinning. She sat back down, finally finding words. 

“Have you told Bates?”

“I can’t!” Anna sobbed. “He’d kill him!”

“So what will you do?” Mary asked.

“I’m moving back into the house. After that, I’m not sure.”

“Move back into the house! But why?” Mary’s shock was plainly written on her face.

“I can’t…” Anna said between bouts of tears, “I can’t let him touch me.”

“But why?”

“I am dirty. I’m spoiled. Ruined.”

“Oh Anna…” Mary sighed, feeling a faint sense of familiarity with those words. 

“Anna,” Mary started softly. “I know. How you feel. What you mean. Some of it. I can’t pretend to know everything, but…” she trailed off, unsure how to explain. 

A moment later, she began again. “When Pamuk came into my bedroom, I had two choices. Scream and be shamed all my life, the face of scandal, never to be welcomed in respectable society, never to be married. Or…” And here she paused, swallowing thickly, “Go along with it. To be truly ruined. At least only I would know, and the shame would be only mine. It was not physical force, but it was not a choice.”

Anna glanced up, shock on her face. 

“I lived in shame,” Mary continued. “I blamed myself. Searched my memories for the moment where I gave him a hint, a clue, something that could have been taken as an invitation. Anything. And then the rumours started. And it wasn’t just me saying it was my fault, it was everyone, the papers, relatives, everybody. And every time I thought that at last, it had died, left me to wallow in my ruin, it came back, digging me deeper. And the whole time, I was thinking ‘I deserve this. I dug my own grave, and I deserve it.’ 

“When Matthew proposed for the first time, there were so many voices. Telling me what I should do, shouldn’t do, ought to do, because of the baby, the money, the inheritance. I didn’t know what to do. And he lost patience. But that wasn’t all. If I accepted him, agreed to marry him, I would have to tell him about Pamuk. And I couldn’t. And then he went to war, came back engaged, and our hands were tied. 

“After Lavinia died, after the Carlisle thing, I told him everything. I begged his forgiveness, and he refused. He said I didn’t need his forgiveness. He didn’t care what had happened, and beyond that, he didn’t blame me. I know now that Pamuk raped me. But he was the one to tell me that. He saw past all of the nonsense I’d built up in my head, all those years of saying that it was my fault, that I’d caused it. I didn’t believe him at first, but I came to see the truth. And he loved me with, and because of my experiences, not despite them. 

“Healing takes time. Each day might seem the same as the last, and it might seem as if nothing will ever change, but it will. If you’re worried about how Bates reacts… well, we’ll deal with that as it comes, but I know he loves you. A lot. And I can promise that he will not think less of you for what has happened,” Mary concluded. “And no matter what, know I’ll always support you.”

Anna smiled slightly, wiping away the last of her tears. “Thank you, Milady.” Mary took the teacup and placed it on the dressing table. She wrapped her arms around Anna in a tight embrace. 

‘I mean it,” she said firmly. “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Comments and other feedback are very much appreciated!


End file.
